Legumes, Ungulates, and a Possible Panjandrum
by Humanoid Life-form
Summary: John learns some new words. Each chapter will incorporate one word- feel free to suggest some in a review! Might go to K plus in later chapters. *WARNING- CONTAINS NO PLOT.*
1. Legume

The flat was quieter than it had been the entire week- what with foreign killers on Monday, a vengeful swordswoman on Tuesday, and a particularly irritable alpaca on Wednesday (don't ask) and John was rather enjoying the peace and quiet.

Sherlock, for once, was occupied with something that wasn't illegal or deadly. Rather, he was on the couch, updating his blog. John was in the kitchen, preparing a tea. Mrs. Hudson was downstairs, baking cookies (or so Sherlock deduced.)

Yes, all was well on Baker Street.

...At least until the tap-tap-tapping of Sherlock at the laptop paused, and he steepled his fingers in thought.

"John," he finally asked, "what is a legume?"

John paused, setting the tea leaves back on the counter.

"Well, I suppose they're some sort of... er, I'm not actually sure."

Sherlock frowned, black eyebrows furrowing.

"I thought you would know."

John sighed.

"You could just look it up, y'know."

There was a momentary silence, then the clicking of a keyboard.

And then-

"A legume is a plant in the family Leguminosae, or the fruit or seed of such a plant. Legumes are grown agriculturally, primarily for their food grain seed, for livestock forage and silage, and as soil-enhancing green manure. Legumes are notable in that most of them have symbiotic nitrogen-fixing bacteria in structures called root nodules. Well-known legumes include alfalfa, clover, peas, beans, lentils, lupins,mesquite, carob, soybeans, peanuts, tamarind, and the woody climbing vine wisteria."

John opened his mouth to speak, then wisely closed it.

"That's... that's, erm, superb. Listen, why don't you work on your blog?

"Already have."

"I've finished tea. D'you want a cup?"

Sherlock gave a sort of grunt, which John supposed was a yes.

He brought the two cups in to the sitting room, and they both sipped the tea in silence.

The quiet bled on for the next half an hour or so, and John was getting ready to sit up when Sherlock spoke.

"Funny word, isn't it?"

John frowned.

"What, legume?

"Yes. Just say it a couple times. Le_gyoom. _Le_gume._ Le-"

"Yes, it is quite silly." John replied quickly, before Sherlock could spout any more nonsense. _  
_

"-Le_gyoooooooom."_

In an effort to make the conversation at least half-sane, John said "Right! Well, this is all very nice, but if you want tea tomorrow I'd best go get the milk."

Sherlock snorted.

"Don't bother. Mrs. Hudson went to the grocery this morning for her cookies, she's bound to have milk."

"Oh- yes." John said, relieved.

"And John?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think she bought le_gyooooooooms?"_


	2. Panjandrum

John was holding an old, slightly dusty book. He had taken it upon himself to do some spring cleaning, as his flatmate seemed to have little intention of doing so. The sentiment behind the action was heartfelt, but much to his dismay it seemed that the flat had only gotten messier.

John frowned at the cover of the novel in his hands. It read _The Prattlings of a Panjandrum _in gold, slightly fading curly print.

"Sherlock," he called, "d'you have any idea what a panjandrum is?"

Sherlock gave no reply. He had taken refuge in the kitchen, the one place in the little apartment John had no desire to explore, and for obvious reasons. The last time he had tried to clean up the kitchen, he had discovered a plastic bag full of human toes in the butter dish.

"Sherlock! I need you and your _marvelous _brain to give me an answer."

Sherlock gave a gravelly sigh.

"And why would you need to know the meaning of that word?"

John rolled his eyes.

"Stumbled across it in a book. Y'know, a _definition_ would really come in handy now."

Sherlock thought for a moment, and then-

"Mycroft."

"Excuse me?"

"Mycroft is a panjandrum."

John was left to ponder in silence, wondering what on earth a panjandrum could possibly be.

* * *

**Hi everybody! Thanks for the reviews and favorites, you people are awesome! Just to let you know, _The Prattlings of a Panjandrum _isn't an actual book. I just made it up. And now I suppose you're wondering what a panjandrum is? ...The world may never know. ;)**


	3. Ungulate

**So in the last chapter, the main word was 'panjandrum.' Seeing as I failed to include a proper definition, I realize many of you probably looked it up to see what it meant. 'Panjandrum' actually means a person who is or thinks of themselves to be very important, but Google gives an entirely different take on it. I later realized that 'The Great Panjandrum' was also a bomb created by the British but was never used, and most of you probably came to the conclusion that this is what I meant when I used it in my story. **

**Sorry for the misunderstanding!**

* * *

It had been three days since the disastrous spring cleaning, and John had happily forgotten both of the strange words he had previously encountered. Sherlock was in the kitchen, contentedly dissecting some exotic animal, and John was in the main room, sitting on the couch and aimlessly staring at the wall.

Truth be told, he was getting rather bored (better him than Sherlock) and felt the need to break the silence that had descended over the little flat.

"So, Sherlock, what are you dissecting?" He asked, partly curious and partly not wanting to know.

There was a moment's silence, then-

"An ungulate."

"And d'you expect me to know what that is?"

"No."

John frowned, and shook his head. He sunk deeper into the couch, trying to forget the word. But curiosity was nibbling at his insides, and he just had to ask...

"Well, what's an ungulate?"

"An ungulate (a pause, then a horrible ripping noise) is an animal."

"And what sort of animal is that?"

"An animal sort of animal."

It was clear he was trying to concentrate, but John was really curious now.

"Well, I'll just look it up, then."

Silence.

"Won't you give me a hint?"

Silence.

"Please?"

Still no answer.

"I'll give Mrs. Hudson your skull."

It was a lame threat and John knew it, but somehow it managed to illicit a response.

"Very well. You may have a hint."

"Thank you."

"A hippo is an ungulate."

John worked it out in silence, and the little flat was quiet once more.


End file.
